


Sugar Rush

by TaigaKunaix



Series: Controlling Force [4]
Category: Eyeshield 21
Genre: Anal Sex, Fluff and Smut, Humor, M/M, Obedience, and akaba is a sweetheart underneath the cold mask, hiruma is dummy mad lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2021-01-03 20:08:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21185267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaigaKunaix/pseuds/TaigaKunaix
Summary: With the winter season coming, the heat-attracted quarterback finds it harder to maintain the warmth in his thin body. Being born with a slim frame and sugar insensitivity was a bad spell for anyone during the wintertime, so Hiruma turns to the one terrible advent to keep from shivering everywhere - sugar.Let’s… let’s just say that sugar does a number on Hiruma, and unfortunately for Akaba, he’ll have to do numbers on him, too.





	Sugar Rush

**Author's Note:**

> I haven’t gone back and added the definitions to musical terms, so I’m gonna do so since Akaba does use musical metaphors all the time:  
Syncopation - offbeat/irregular flow  
Slide/Glissando - moving from one pitch to another  
E Major - Trouble awaits  
B Major - Rage  
Major sevenths + Suspended fourth - Romantic/sexual tension or arousal  
Chorale - a musical composition, usually harmonious  
Cacophony - a harsh mixture of sounds  
Register - the range of a note/ set of notes and pitches  
Rhythm - repeated sound/ movement  
Composition - a song, basically  
Melody - satisfying sequence of notes  
Symphony - composition for a full orchestra  
Chord - three or more notes sounded together  
Duet - a performance by two people  
Cadence - last notes to a pause or end of a tune  
Belt - a sustained note  
Exposition - ending of a song/composition  
Ostinato - a continually repeated rhythm  
Also, he does base major and minor scales on emotions and conditions, which is why you'll see chord scales here and there to describe how he or someone else feels.

It was late October, the winter football season was coming to an end. Everyone in the roster of the Saikyoudai Wizards completed their benchmark tests about a week ago, and now the first string Wizards were preparing themselves for the spring preliminaries. It was a local setting, not as big as the Rice Bowl which Hiruma could foresee within the next year or so, at least when he is in his 3rd or 4th year of college. 

And _speaking of Hiruma _ … It was forty degrees out and windy. This was the coldest day of the week, and despite being clad in a jacket Hiruma was _pissbrain cold_. 

Fun fact about the blonde quarterback; whether it is a result of his personality or his skinny body frame, he did _ not _ do well during the wintertime. He hated those three months of perpetual chill and freeze with a _ passion _ , as he was practically _ drawn _ to heat like a moth to a flame. It didn't help that his diet choices were very strict, picky even, especially in regards to sugar. He can't handle even the most basic dosage of sugar, which is why he always bought sugar-free gum. 

Well, today, he was out of campus during the evening after class, and internally regretted not stealing the coach's car to take himself home. It didn't show physically but he was _ chilled _, seriously, and he didn't want to stop moving because he didn't want to feel his bones freezing up from rigidity. He fastened his pace once he reached the block of his business hotel, seeing many street vendors posted up on the bottom floors of buildings. There was one in particular with a load of basic pastries like scones and cookies. That one smelled the _ strongest _ to the quarterback, probably because it was on his side of the sidewalk, and because he was thinking about eating something. 

Self control is a vigorously exercised motto that Hiruma follows, because if he didn't, the world would bite him in the ass. He knows that he can't handle sugary foods but there were rare moments, rare instances, where he actually _ wanted _ something sweet. In this case, it's because it's cold out and whenever he has a bit of sugar, his body gets warmer. Without a disparaging thought, he went up to the vendor and casually asked for a single cookie as if the male behind the counter didn't tremble in fear from seeing him. He had a reputation also, _ that _ is why he must exercise self control. 

For _ now _ though, since he was close to his apartment, he'll slip past his boundaries and actually indulge in something sweet, figuring the sugar rush would last for several hours. He just wanted to _ not feel cold_, god dammit. 

Hiruma reached his business hotel, shifting the AK47 against his shoulder. The blonde knew he was going to regret this but _ hell_, it was cold out and frankly, sugar is the one thing that keeps most people warm, right? There's no harm in eating a double chocolate chip cookie on a practically _ empty stomach _ . What's the _ worst _ that could happen? 

* * *

The music was _ exceptionally _ wonderful today. 

Akaba felt more and more satisfied with every passing hour just because of the continuous synchronization around him. Everyone was going about their day with no quarrels, and he took it upon himself to play his guitar more often, inspiration leaking from his fingertips. 

Yesterday he had two classes: English and Advanced Biology. He shared his English class with _ five _ of his teammates: Banba, Taka, Ikkyu, Agon, and _ Hiruma. _ The quarterback in question did not show up to English, and the teacher shakily noted his absence as a means of something revolving around football. Aside from that kink in the machine, the rest of yesterday was perfectly fine. In fact, he'd dare to say it was _ better _ without the blonde in his presence, trying to sucker him into some chaotic game to ruin the world's good rhythm. 

Today evening, after music class was over, Akaba stayed back as expected to play his guitar. His teacher, being _ very _ savvy with the fullback, had closed the door and hung a sign saying the classroom was off limits. Akaba respected the man, the fullback was his best student and his best student has the privilege of using his classroom whenever he wants, as long as he doesn't mess anything up. That meant he could come here indefinitely, because since _ when _ would Akaba _ ever _ damage any instrument? He looked over an entire sheet music book; the fullback was talented enough to play a verse meant for another instrument on his own guitar, so that's exactly what he did. It was like a warm up to finding out the evening's pace to him. 

Some time after class was dismissed and he was left alone, he checked the time nonchalantly: 7:58 PM. It was two hours before dusk, though that didn't bother him. He could stay here until midnight, thought it was against his better judgment to do so because there was practice in the morning. He decided that he'll stay here and continue playing for another hour, perhaps, at least until he felt a cadence tell him otherwise. 

Ten minutes later, he _ suddenly _ felt like he _ had _ to leave. Akaba sensed being acknowledged for something. Normally that's not a problem, but the sudden _ E Major _ slide made him sit up a little. There was something coming his way, he felt, but he suppressed the idea and decided to ignore it if it passes by. 

It was 8:15 when he opened his eyes, hearing a key being inserted into the music entrance’s door lock. The class was clearly indicated to be _ closed _ , which meant nobody should be trying to come in right now. His musical sense thought to impeach the wariness, thinking it was his music teacher just getting something up until he _ reckoned _ he saw a tiny strand of blonde hair in the window. 

_ Oh fuck, oh shit, oh no- _ Not right now, not right _ now! _ Today's music was as peachy as can be, he didn’t want to have to deal with any _ unneeded syncopation _ ! That’s exactly what the damn quarterback was, all off-beat, unexpected and chaotic; at least, on certain days where not everything was progressing smoothly, Hiruma’s rhythm was _ tolerable _. Today was beyond satisfying in terms of synchronicity, and now that that door knob was wildly turning he could hear all the swell notes starting to go sour.

He should have kept his phone on him, and _ not _ on silent, otherwise he would have seen the text that Yamato sent him regarding their captain:

**Dude, if you see Hiruma ANYWHERE, just start running. He’s not in a good mood today.** A tiny part of Akaba wondered if he should use the next few seconds he had left to hide somewhere.

The door _ flung _ open loudly, every present instrument in the evening’s chorale was interrupted by the loudest record scratch Akaba’s brain could muster. It made him _ jump _ in his seat, that and the harshness of the blonde’s sudden action which… wasn’t out of anger, surprisingly. Hiruma had shut the door behind him, and Akaba took a moment to really analyze the other male in the room. Once again dressed in all black, clad in tight jeans and a fitting shirt, the fullback noticed the slight tremble in those pampered fingers. Hiruma was _ jittery. _

Those blue eyes found the redhead and he could have _ sworn _ they appeared glazed over. “_Guitar Freeaaaaaaak…” _Hiruma’s hand left the door knob, and instead of sauntering like he normally does, he_skipped _ up the ramp to where Akaba was seated. The whole time the fullback gaped at him wondering if he accidentally strummed himself into _ another universe_, because this _ did not look right_. At _ all. _“I finally _ fouuund youuu_. _ Kekekeke…” _

Three blinks, a confused arched brow and another blink later, Akaba found himself unable to properly respond. Well-placed cacophony in Hiruma’s rhythm is normal, but _ this_… This was akin to pressing random keys on a piano and calling it _ music. _ “Umm-”

He couldn’t say anything else. In one swift action, Hiruma practically pounced onto his lap, grabbed his face with cold hands and kissed him. The kiss was deep, it settled all the way into Akaba’s mouth, and if it weren’t for the odd register of the blonde he probably would have gotten a little aroused by it. He could taste the faint remnants of something sweet on Hiruma’s lips; they kind of tasted like some sort of candy. 

The fullback frowned into the kiss… does Hiruma eat _candy? _He can’t imagine the quarterback not being a picky eater, given the way he acts and how he looks. The twinge of sweetness in their progressively deepening kiss threw Akaba off. 

The quarterback pulled away with his hands on Akaba’s shoulders, thighs underneath his guitar. Hiruma tilted his head with a kooky smile, his actions were _ oddly loose. _ “What’cha doing here all alone, Fucking Red Eye?”

Akaba opened his mouth and then closed it, he did this a couple more times because he was at a loss for words. He took a deep breath to gather himself, pushing aside his confusion at the blonde’s rhythm for a _ moment _ to respond to him. “I’m playing my guitar.”

“Why?” Those hands moved down to his chest. Akaba swallowed. “It’s so late and you’re just sitting here playing that?” He flicked a finger to his guitar. “Aren’t you _bored _?”

Akaba’s eyes went wide with two very long blinks. Hiruma does not _ speak _ like this; is this the same Hiruma whose been in the Wizards for the past year and a half? “Why would I ever get bored of constructing new rhythms? The music today was exceptional, my fingers called for another composition.” He strummed a few more notes.

_ Was _ exceptional, he had to emphasize the past tense there because now, if today’s melody were written in sheet music, this would be the part where all the notes would metaphorically scatter around the page like ants.

“_Wellllll _ then, can those fingers make a composition out of _ me_?”

The strumming completely stopped_. _Akaba cocked his head back for two reasons: one, because Hiruma suddenly used his own personal language on him, and two… his right hand was massaging Akaba’s crotch _ already. _

They definitely _ can_, but like… “...What?”

“You heard me, _ genius_. _ Kekeke_…” Hiruma’s hand pushed against the fullback’s pants, copping a good feel of his manhood. He sexily sneered. Akaba did his best to ignore it for now. “Leave your guitar out of this and finger fuck me.”

That was a cue, but it was a cue that Akaba was _ not _ going to take. Instead of outright declining because he truly _ cannot _ read the quarterback anymore, he chose to weasel around it instead. “I don’t think… that’s a good idea.”

The smile on Hiruma’s face disappeared just like that. Those erratic blue eyes looked into Akaba’s, and the fullback was getting the vibe of a little child suddenly told that they can’t play with their favorite toy anymore. Except this child was spoiled, and won’t take no for an answer.

“What do you mean it’s not a good idea?” Hiruma frowned at him. “There’s no _ idea _ behind that shit, all you have to do is take my pants off and make me cum.”

“But not…” Akaba looked around as if there were people in the room with them. “Do you not realize that we are still on campus? Our symphony cannot initiate anywhere here.”

“And why _ can’t _ it?”

The sudden bite in Hiruma’s voice made Akaba inhale sharply. He was _ trying _ to traverse through this as smoothly as possible, because that hand was still cupping his crotch. Who knows _ what _ that hand will do next… “Have you forgotten our deal? This is between us.”

“Nobody is in this room.” Hiruma said, impatient. “So nobody can see us.”

“That’s not the point.” Akaba shook his head. “There are cameras here.”

Blue eyes went dark. He shifted his hand off of Akaba’s pants, and the fullback held in the urge to exhale in relief. “You think I can’t _ tamper _ with them before daybreak?”

Hiruma looked extremely offended, his face was not mirroring how _ angry _ he really was, that only showed in his eyes. Akaba vocally sighed. “I never said you _ couldn’t_.” He held Hiruma’s wrist when he felt that same hand trying to tamper with his belt buckle. “Why are you acting like this? Your rhythm is _ completely _ off today.”

Yesterday, when Hiruma indulged in his super sweet cookie late at night, it did the trick of keeping him pseudo warm before he fell asleep. His apartment was well insulated, he didn’t have to worry about the inherent temperature in the room because the hotel had excellent ventilation, but when Hiruma woke up this morning he was _ still _ cold. The effect had faded somewhere in the middle of the night, and since the blonde hadn’t eaten a proper, filling meal all day, he found himself clutching his pillow in a fetal position underneath his blanket. His sugar high hadn’t ceased though, so the erratic quarterback only quenched his inner chill by ordering room service in the morning.

They should have _ known _ something was wrong when that notoriously raspy voice on the other end of the phone irritably asked for a _ mocha_, a breakfast package with _ sugary syrup_, and a packet of gummy bears instead of something bitter, as per usual.

The warmth kept his body sane for a while, up until maybe five or six hours, but the whole time Hiruma was _ unbearably _ cranky and unreasonably hyper. Thank _ god _ there was no practice today, otherwise the whole football field would have been littered with gravestones.

Once the evening hit, Hiruma left the campus and took the subway back to his apartment, _ suffering _ the whole way through because the warmth left him again, and he engorged in the earlier pack of gummy bears until the bag was empty. Usually, ten of these would give Hiruma enough of a minor sugar high, but unfortunately once his rush starts, he begins to _ crave sugar even more_. 

This could have been easily explained with a sentence like ‘I’ve been eating sugary food lately, and now I’m jittery and horny’. Or maybe he wasn’t horny, but rather angry at something and wanted to take his anger out on the fullback, Akaba didn’t know.

Instead, what Akaba got as his answer was a furious, seething raspy voice and a hand of sharp nails digging into his shoulder. “Because you wouldn’t _ fuck me, _ you sack of _ shit_.”

Or perhaps it’s the concept of sex that drove Hiruma to this point. Being with another body in such a way provided an obvious physical warmth, something that Hiruma’s cold, sugar-infested body also _ craved _ since the weather was his primary reason for eating sugary foods. The thought of the fullback fucking him good so that he’d forget the constant shivering got him hot and bothered, so much so that he _ sought the redhead out, _ leaving his apartment and heading back to the university despite not having any classes.

“That…” Akaba couldn’t read where the scale of where the quarterback’s melody was, but he knew that wasn’t the right answer. “That’s not what’s making you so erratic, Hiruma...”

He thought about the taste of his lips for a moment. Now he can identify it; they tasted like gummy bears. He then traced his thoughts back to any more hints and clues he can find for this newfound persona. At first he found nothing, but then he recalled Hiruma going off on Mamori for accidentally buying gum that wasn’t sugar free, and then he recalled a random instance of Agon saying something like ‘blonde trash is a complete _ pussy _ when it comes to food’.

Two cadences came about, the first bout of clarity he had since Hiruma walked into the room. _ He’s… _ Akaba looked up at the ceiling, _ he is having a sugar rush, isn’t he? _

His thoughts were cut off because Hiruma’s hands were tugging roughly on his belt. Akaba had to force his wrists back, and was immediately met with a snarl. “Take your DAMN PANTS _ OFF _, GUITAR FREAK-”

Akaba _ clamped _ his hand over Hiruma’s mouth hard enough to keep him from potentially biting his palm. The guitarist’s red eyes blared, he can feel a different, more foreign chord coming out of himself now. He was getting _ very annoyed_, but instead of being reactive, he took a deep breath and looked at Hiruma with a subduing gaze. “Hiruma… we are in a classroom.” Not to mention, _ the _ music classroom. _ His _vicinity. Like hell was he ever gonna debauch this sacred place by having sex on it. “We cannot engage a symphony here for multiple reasons. At least wait until we get to your apartment.”

Hiruma’s snarl slowly faded, the chaotic rhythm in him falling into _ dead silence_. His wrists fell under Akaba’s grasp, who had loosened them because he saw the quarterback relent, but not before he took a look at the normally sharp, abrasive face that stared back at him. The _ silence _ in the room made Akaba dart his eyes around, he didn’t hear _any _ melody out of Hiruma now.

Then, he heard soft playing violins. Then he saw the gaze in Hiruma’s eyes change right before him, his shoulders dropped and his wrists went slack against Akaba’s lap, knuckles touching his guitar. He looked at Akaba with sulking eyes and pouting lips, brows creased together in an unhappy fashion. His eyes started to look glossy.

Akaba went from straight facing, to full on frowning, to looking _ aghast_. Is… Is Hiruma about to _ cry _?

His pale bottom lip was wobbling, eyes actually growing watery. “You don’t wanna fuck me?”

The fullback was _ flabbergasted; _ that’s not even what he _ said! _ “I-” Akaba tilted his head in shock. Hiruma‘s face grew even more broody. “I never said that I didn’t want-”

“Yes you _ did! _ ” Hiruma crossed his arms like a child, pouting heavily. “Why don’t you wanna fuck me anymore? We’ve been doing it for the past month, and now you just wanna sit here and play your guitar all night. That doesn’t make any sense, a guitar can’t make you feel the way I do, so why would you pick that over me? Am I not _ enough _ for you?“ The more he spoke, the angrier he got. Akaba found himself leaning all the way back in his seat progressively. “You got bored of me, didn’t you, Fucking Red Eye? Or did you find some fucking _ whore _ who’s tighter than me, you _ prick?! _ Is that why you’ve been dodging me for the past few days; too afraid to face me, _ huh?! _Why _ else _ would you deny fucking this _ ass_, you _ freak_?!”

When he was done with his tirade, Akaba’s back was _ glued _ to his seat, and he had his hands up as if Hiruma held him at gunpoint. Hiruma was so mad that he was _ panting _ a little after yelling, staring Akaba in his face like he wanted to melt his cheekbones off. With a hard swallow, and an even deeper damn breath, Akaba did his _ best _ to come to a fair conclusion for this hot ass _ mess _.

“Listen…” Akaba started, he slowly sat back up with his hands gesturing assurance. “I did not say I wouldn’t mesh rhythms with you.” Hiruma’s eyes were borderline twitching. “I said that we cannot do so _ here. _ This is a classroom, in our university. If you wish for this duet of ours to be a secret, the last thing you’d want is for anyone to find us in the midst.” Akaba held his breath, a little _ scared _ now. He hoped it went through the blonde’s nutty brain.

Hiruma jerked his head to the left when he tilted it, still looking betrayed. He appeared to inhale. “Then take me to the utility closet across from this room and fuck me there.”

The idea was so _ lewd_, it threw Akaba off guard and he responded without thinking first. “_No-_”

Those blue eyes returned with a huge fire that looked frightening, especially because they were so physically close. “What do you mean _ no?! _”

Ah, _ crap_. Akaba immediately back pedaled. “That is not a good advent for our rhythms meshing.” He had to rest his hands above Hiruma’s wrists just in case they attempt to punch his dick. “I will take us to your apartment instead.”

It was like an _ immediate _ switch. All that anger, all that pent up insecure _ rage _ Hiruma threw at him was gone in an _ instant_, and he smiled with a sudden spring to his vibe. “Okay!” He hopped off of Akaba and _ joyfully _ walked down the ramp and settled a hand on the door with a giggle. “I’ll be waiting by your car. _ Kekeke _…”

The blonde exited, and fullback was still seated, staring at the door with an expression that would've had Yamato pissing his pants in laughter. He looked away, downcast at first, before he ran a hand up his hair and then back down to rest his palm on his chin, propping his elbow against his knee with a deep set frown on his face. What did he just get himself _ into_?

Given another ten minutes, Akaba had packed his guitar up and left the music class. Exiting the building, he shook his head at the way the night’s music cascaded like a bunch of plates _ flying _ off of a cupboard; everything about this experience was so surreal and scary, because he didn’t know _ what to expect _ once he’d reach the quarterback’s business hotel. He had taken the time to actually look at the message Yamato sent him earlier. 

Well, _ thanks for the heads up_, because Akaba totally hadn't taken the time to see it when it was first delivered. Now he had to walk to his coupe knowing that he could have avoided this situation by _ keeping his phone in his pocket. _

To make matters even creepier, when he got to his car Hiruma wasn’t standing right by it. Akaba parks a little bit farther away from everybody else, and he didn’t want to be caught walking near the quarterback mostly because he was afraid he’d get groped on the way here. Said blonde instead, was already _ in _ the damn car, bouncing a little in his seat just _ grinning at him _ as he approached.

Oh… right. Akaba left his front passenger window down a few inches, which was way too small to fit a whole body through. Then again, Hiruma’s arm was _very thin_.

He opened his door and sat in, acting like Hiruma wasn’t boring holes into his skull with his eyes alone. Turning on the ignition, Akaba hoped that _ nobody _ caught sight of Hiruma here, and he also hoped their symphony would end quickly. All he had to do was have sex with him and that’ll easily put the restless blonde to sleep; Akaba should be returning to the university before ten at least. He drove off the parking lot, out of Saikyoudai’s campus, figuring it’d be easy…

_ Hopefully. _

* * *

The car ride to the business hotel… Akaba _ wished _not to speak about it.

The first thirty minutes were eerily quiet. Hiruma didn’t speak to him, he was just staring out the window with an odd glaze to his eyes, and for the first time ever Akaba actually _ wanted _ him to say something. He had gotten so accustomed to how wordy he was back in music class, that the sudden silence was making him brace for any random outburst. He decided to inhale and not mind it, putting on the radio and listening to some rock…

Which he found was a _ bad idea_, because Hiruma immediately started dancing wildly in his car, and with how loose his dancing was, Akaba was afraid he’d smack his face on accident. When the songs changed into a different genre, Hiruma stopped dancing and then leaned back against his seat, exhaling deeply; he was tired. Akaba got confused; since when did car dancing tire someone out like that?

When they were several blocks away from the business hotel Akaba, feeling like any other normal human being under a constant stream of heat, turned the heat off in the car because it had gotten too warm. Hiruma nearly _ exploded_, yelling about how it was _ fucking ice cold _ outside, and turning the heat on himself. Akaba figured the blonde probably was shivering on his way to Akaba’s car because he didn’t adorn a jacket. The clues were starting to add up now; _ so he’s hyper enough to not feel cold, _ Akaba wondered while the blonde brooded silently, turning every facet of heat towards him, _ why couldn’t he foresee that it’d get colder at night? _

They reached the parking lot, Hiruma’s hands were between his skinny tights and he was rocking back and forth. He didn’t do that because he was cold, he did that because he couldn’t _ stay still _ anymore. The fullback slowed to a stop by the entrance of the lot. “You can exit.” Akaba’s fingers drummed against his steering wheel. “I’ll go find somewhere to park.”

“Okay.” Hiruma suddenly said, stepping out of the car and walking away. Akaba’s red eyes flickered to his front passenger window, _ he is strangely obedient now... _

There was a twenty minute grace period where he sat in his car, mentally preparing himself for any crazy shit that would go down tonight before he stepped out with an inhale. He was wearing an insulating jacket, but he could _ feel _ the cold wind hitting his face. He was considerate for dropping Hiruma off near the hotel entrance, the blonde would have turned into a statue if he had to walk there from where Akaba parked.

“Fucking Red Eye.”

As of now, he was busy thinking about a certain melody when the quarterback eyed him from the side. He had a whole taffy in his mouth. Chords of _ alarm _ went off in Akaba’s mind. “Hiruma, why are you eating that?”

He was sitting on the bed and Hiruma had just walked in to his bedroom. The quarterback bit off the sweet treat and chewed around it unnaturally. “I’m hungry.”

Two blinks. The cadence fell into three notes of confusion. “Then eat something of substance.”

“I wanted a taffy.”

Akaba shook his head. “A single taffy can not fill you up.”

Hiruma paused, eyeing him with a glare that seized Akaba’s relaxed form. The fullback tensed underneath that lethal glare, up until Hiruma swirled the tongue around the tip of the taffy. It was red.

Hiruma’s lips circled the taffy’s edge hotly. “But you will, guitar freak. _ Kekekeke…_”

Akaba closed his eyes and turned away with a sigh. He should have known that was coming.

Instead of letting the action continue, Akaba stood up and approached him. He eyed the quarterback chewing on the taffy. “Hiruma.”

“_Mmm?” _ The blonde had his mouth closed.

“Does sugar have a bad impact on your flow?”

Hiruma blinked at him three times. He tilted his head. “It keeps me from freezing. Why ask?”

Not only is he erratic in this state, he’s strangely _ open and honest _. “It’s making you a little…” Akaba wasn’t sure how to word this without possibility getting stabbed in the neck by Hiruma’s nail. “It’s got you acting very weirdly.”

Another head tilt. “How?”

..._ Is he not aware of his own actions on his sugar high_, yet he’s more transformative? Akaba furrowed his brows. “Do you… remember what you just did, in music class...?”

Again, that hyperactive mind of his tuned out what he just asked when he looked Akaba over. “Why aren’t you naked, Fucking Red Eye?” He got irritated, and was getting closer to Akaba. “You sat here for two minutes and you couldn’t even take your damn sweater off?!”

The fullback stepped back, watching his hands carefully. “Hiruma-”

His free hand went to his midsection, tugging at his sweater. “Take it off, _ now_.” He started roughly yanking it, stretching the fabric mercilessly. “Get _ undressed, _ god dammit! Don’t just stand here trying to fight m-”

The guitarist snatched the taffy out of his hand. “That’s _ enough _ of this for you.” He was about to leave and throw it out. A double barrel shotgun to his _ nose _ stopped him mid track, it was centimeters away from being jammed into his face.

“GIVE THAT FUCKING TAFFY BACK!”

He recalled knowing that Hiruma would never kill a person, but that was when the blonde was relatively sane. Right now… Akaba was certain if he didn’t comply, his musical brain would be belting all over the _ floor_.

So, instead of giving it back, in his rising anger, Akaba _ slapped _ the shotgun right out of his jittery hands and grasped onto both of his arms, pulling Hiruma close and keeping him from thrashing. The taffy fell to the floor, and Hiruma was doing everything in his power to get off of Akaba's impossibly strong hold, feeling his feet dragging against his bedroom floor. “Get the FUCK, off of me and give my taffy BA-”

He was thrown against the bed, and the moment his arms were released he started trying to hit the fullback. It didn’t take more than a few seconds to straddle Hiruma down; Akaba held his wrists against the mattress, getting fucking _ tired _ of this shit. 

The fullback breathed deeply, thinking about his earlier plan. _ Easier said than done, huh? _

Seeing Hiruma continue to loudly curse at him he forced his wrists down again, making the blonde flop upwards a little. The fullback nearly _ grated _ at him: "_Stop yelling_.”

His stern voice quieted the quarterback instantly. Hiruma’s eyes appeared to soften unnaturally, almost seeming to show arousal. He looked from Akaba’s eyes, down to his lips, and then down at his chest before bringing his gaze back up at him, showing _ obedience_. “Okay…”

Akaba cocked his neck back in blatant confusion. There are so many things wrong with the music tonight. He didn’t know whether to be perplexed, or creeped out at the fact that the devil blonde didn’t gnaw his nose off just now.

He released those wrists and Hiruma sat up, propping himself on his elbows. Akaba sat down on the bed, thinking about his guitar currently sitting in his car’s front seat and how… Quiet it was, sitting all alone and untouched. The quarterback stood up, stripping off his clothes all of the sudden. Akaba at first thought he was going to pounce on him and start kissing him silly, but the blonde went to the bathroom instead. He heard the shower running a couple of minutes later.

_ That’s… different. _ Hiruma was pressuring him to have sex not even two hours ago, and now he’s taking his time. Akaba scanned his surroundings, trying to find a reason behind this sudden change of pace. His music sense told him a myriad of things, but they were too elusive. He decided to undress too; he wanted Hiruma to at least _ initiate _ so that he can put the nutty blonde to sleep. The only way to do so is to present himself for their awaiting symphony.

The shower was off after several minutes, Hiruma opened the door after drying himself, clad in a black robe that showed his legs. He appeared to stop and look in the mirror, scrutinizing something. Akaba leaned his head to the side; was he staring at himself?

The quarterback saw him naked, and immediately turned the bathroom light off. He half-ran to the bed with an eager smile, sitting right on Akaba's lap and kissing the fullback straight away. Their lips noisily pulled one another, Hiruma held onto his head as he feverishly smooched him off. The two separated for a moment and that was when Akaba got a good look of Hiruma’s face. He held Hiruma back in slight awe.

He looked… different without his makeup. His winged eyeliner managed to make his eyes look smaller than they actually are, and his eyebrows were not as sharp. They were smaller, only marginally, and made his face look a lot more calmer than normal. In fact, it made him look complacent… pretty.

If you notice, he hadn’t vocally sighed this entire time. He only does his trademark sigh when he felt amused, entertained, playful, or wanted to admire something. He felt _ none _ of those, because he was so confused that the gesture was _ lost _ on him. It’ll come back sooner or later.

Hiruma appeared to look inquisitive, darting between both of his eyes. “What?” 

Akaba can see oddities forming in his rhythm. The taffy was already taking effect. Hiruma moved against him, and Akaba studied his face. “You look different.”

A new cadence, it struck Akaba in a bit of a surprise. “I have no makeup on.” Hiruma said with a tiny voice. “I took it all off. Do you think I look pretty without it?”

_ Shocked, _ Akaba opened his mouth and then shut it closed. He eyed the quarterback warily… _ is that a trick question? _ If he said ‘yes’, then Hiruma might subjectively think he’s lying, and if he said ‘no’ even though that’s not the truth, that would make the quarterback throw a tantrum. _ That’s _ what Hiruma’s rhythm was telling him right now, but he seriously didn’t know if he was right or not.

He wished he _ wasn’t. _

“Do you think I’m ugly?”

Akaba blinked. “Huh?”

Hiruma rested his forearms on Akaba’s shoulders. He repeated himself. “Do you think I’m ugly?”

The blonde’s eyes look _ huge _ in comparison to how they normally are. Akaba shook his head. “Not at all.”

A blink. Hiruma looked really cute. “You don’t?”

“No…” It was such an odd question to ask. The fullback had a weird look on his face. “I don't… think you’re ugly.” Akaba decided to take the reins now. He sat up to kiss Hiruma softly, the quarterback registered it quickly. It was that _ single moment _ of synchronicity that made Akaba’s manhood respond to Hiruma’s hips rolling against him; he’s been wanting things in sync for the _ longest _ (even though it’s been about a couple of hours). He rolled the both of them over so that Hiruma was beneath him, feeling Hiruma take off his robe in the midst of a heated kiss.

His fingers made _ excellent _ work of Hiruma’s needy body, though every time he shifted even an inch away from Hiruma the quarterback kept smooshing himself against him, trying to be as close to him as physically possible. Akaba _ almost _ mistaken this as a show of intimacy, he was accidentally kissing Hiruma’s neck, and then smoothing a hand up and down his side.

“Stop _moving _ so fucking much.” Hiruma hit his chest. Akaba was _ barely _ moving at all, all he kept doing was shifting to better accommodate the blonde. This was literally seconds _ after _ he recuperated from cumming.

The rhythmic register was fucked up _ again _ , and it irritated Akaba to the fucking _ max_. “How do you expect me to give you a proper release then?”

He stopped himself short seeing the slight tremble in Hiruma’s legs. He was _ cold_. The fullback started to understand his outburst.

“_Shut up_.” Was Hiruma’s response, followed by roughly pulling Akaba back on top of him and spreading his skinny legs. “Just fuck me already.”

He held onto Hiruma’s hips and rocked him slowly, hearing the quarterback give in immediately. Akaba realized that this odd register of Hiruma’s almost resembled a tipsy person; since alcohol also keeps the body warm, he can bet that sugar was just adding to the pleasure he felt from Akaba’s warm hands and his dick. He tested this even further by going down, holding Hiruma by his waist and keeping their chests pressed together.

_ Holy shit_, the way Hiruma grabbed onto him, groaned in his ear, practically wrapped himself around Akaba’s body aroused the fullback so damn much. He was obedient tonight, and that meant that their symphony could continue on with a satisfying end. The fullback grew even harder at the thought.

He stroked Hiruma _ good_, the quarterback moaning beneath him, panting against his shoulder and tightening his legs against his waist. Every thrust into his warm carapace received a raunchy push back, Akaba groaned against him and went faster.

“_Oh fuck… _ ” Hiruma started, his nails digging into Akaba’s back. He soaked in all of the warmth and pleasure, drowning in it. “_Fucking dammit, Fucking Red Eye- uh, shit, fuck, fuck, fuck!” _

His body shook underneath the redhead’s. Every thrust made him moan, made it clear to Akaba exactly what he wanted, and it turned the fullback on even more. With a quick kiss, now free to do whatever he needs to accommodate their rhythm, he gripped Hiruma’s waist and pounded him, setting himself in and out of the blonde’s trembling body. 

Hiruma threw his head back, exposing more of his neck to which Akaba swiftly attacked, nibbling against the nape. “_ Mm-hmm! God-” _ He gasped, scratching into Akaba's back. He was going to cum real soon, the overwhelming sensation made him a little more violent. He buckled wildly beneath him, his voice became breathy. “_That’s it, Fucking Red Eye- right fucking there! Oh- huh, huh, dammit-” _ Hiruma slapped Akaba’s back, mewling on him. “_Keep going, keep going, keep going- uhh, huh, huh, yes! UUUH-” _

His essence started to leak, and the fullback kept thrusting until he milked out everything Hiruma had in his release. The sugar-high quarterback gripped onto him post-release, groaning loudly as he settled his nose into Akaba’s shoulder. Simmering down, Hiruma could feel Akaba’s hot release inside of him, and he almost drunkenly bit his lip into a smile.

Recuperating quickly, the fullback exhaled against his neck, satisfied. Red eyes peered down at the finished male beneath him. Hiruma’s eyes were closed, he looked so different without his usual winged liner and penciled eyebrows. Akaba was admiring the way Hiruma naturally looked, the quarterback’s face after cumming real good looked sweet enough to kiss.

And so he did. He softened the exposition to their melody with a kiss _ just as sweet _ as Hiruma’s sugar rush. Akaba lifted Hiruma’s torso to pull him up his pillow so that his shoulders were resting against it, he still kept his hand on the small of Hiruma’s back to guide him. The blonde didn’t moan beneath him, his hands had not moved from their position.

Akaba had to stop for a moment. Hiruma would not let go of him. He wondered if he had made a mistake in taking charge tonight.

He pulled away to see those eyes still closed ever so peacefully, Hiruma’s head lulled to the side, Akaba blinked twice… _ Did I rock him directly into a slumber? _ “Hiruma?” He smoothed the blonde’s hair back. Then he shifted to hold Hiruma’s left arm, moving it off of him so that he could sit up. That arm fell limply to his side.

Akaba long blinked with his head cocked _ forward _ ; Oh _ shit_. The quarterback friggin’ _ passed out. _ Was it _ that _ good?

..._ Well, alright_. If that’s the case, then that meant that his job here is done. Akaba shrugged to no one in particular, and got off the skinny quarterback to carefully tuck him in, noting how Hiruma literally was outside with only a whole shirt on. He could bet that Hiruma hadn’t eaten in hours, that hunger showed in the way he was acting during sex. Hiruma would _ never_, in his _ life_, succumb to Akaba like _ that_.

As guilty of a pleasure as it sounded, the fullback wanted to see more of this side of Hiruma when their rhythms meshed. It was _ too good _ of a sight to pass up.

Akaba had put on his clothes in under a minute and then he turned his attention to the unconscious blonde. He felt odd now; he didn’t know if Hiruma passing out was a result of feeling too much pleasure, or due to his sugar intake. He shifted back to Hiruma’s side, lifting his arm again to see if he could catch an abed reaction. It fell lifeless again, from Akaba’s understanding of the human body, that meant Hiruma was _ actually _ passed out. The fullback stood up and moved Hiruma up his pillow even more so that he was slightly sitting rather than completely laying down.

More notes of clarity began tossing around in Akaba’s head before a few made themselves _ loud and clear_. Hiruma wasn’t just hungry. He was probably _ starving_, and had only craved sugary foods instead of having a full meal. He hoped that the blonde wouldn’t wake up with a rageful start, because this may just be the _ calm before the storm_. 

Even though he could leave right now, he really didn’t want Hiruma to suffer the effects of his eventual crash on his own. The part of him that cared more for his own _ sanity _ than for what’s morally reasonable figured that Hiruma’s been through this before and would deal with it on his own without a problem. _ But still, _ the fullback’s fingers were on the door handle, _ it wouldn’t feel right to end it like this… _ The rhythm was still cascading, smooth, almost jazzy. If he left Hiruma alone as of now, it would ruin the exposition.

He decided to stay for a bit and perhaps provide a bit of aid, at least for the time being.

* * *

Instead of waking up, getting up, and doing his daily routine, Hiruma had found out that he had been out of it for a good thirty minutes. It was still nighttime when he woke up, and when he did Hiruma felt like his brain was in limbo.

He kind of didn’t react to seeing himself tucked in so neatly, to being naked in his bed, to groggily opening his eyes and feeling like he hadn’t slept in days. He also didn’t react when he turned his aching head to the side and saw a glass of water sitting on his nightstand. The blonde didn’t remember what happened; he was still partially asleep, but _ god _ was he thirsty. He raised an arm and stretched his hand out of his blanket to weakly grab the glass. 

The minuscule loss of warmth made him shiver _ immediately_. He had a rather thick blanket on top of him and that _ still _ didn’t aid his naked body. Shaky hands grasped the water away, powering through the chill, and sipping as if it literally came from a _ paradise island_. Memories started to resurface, and he felt something oozing around in his ass.

Ah, that’s right. Fucking Red Eye did him not too long ago.

His tired eyes suddenly crossed with irrational fury; _ why the fuck isn’t he here?! _ Hiruma looked to the glass in his hand, did that stupid prick only give him _ this?! _ The fuck is that supposed to mean?!

He was angry now, he sat up in his bed a little too quickly but didn’t seem to notice how that affected his well being. _ That stupid piece of shit… Has the nerve to fuck me and then just walk away, knowing how cold I am? What the fuck is wrong with him, he should be keeping me warm! That Fucking Red Eye can’t even be useful, for fuck sake! _

If Hiruma wasn’t gradually crashing from his high, if he was in a better state of mind, none of this would have went through his head.

Finishing _ all _ of his water, the quarterback nearly _ slammed _ the glass back down and immediately regretted the action, the effort he put out made him really dizzy. He had a look that practically _ screamed _ premeditative murder, even though his body was shaking from the inner cold he felt. He hadn’t eaten anything that _ didn’t _ perpetuate his high today, even his breakfast combo had really sweet syrup _ and _ he had a sweet ass mocha with that too. His hunger, coupled with his oncoming crash, coupled with the fact that _ stupid redhead _ wasn’t holding him in bed made him so damned angry he almost teared up.

Hiruma balled his fists up and shook with a chill-induced rage. “I swear, when I get my fucking hands on that _ shithead guitar freak _, I’m gonna take my shotgun and shoot a bullet so far up his-” 

Hiruma didn’t finish that threat. He fell back against the bed having passed out, immediately into a deep slumber this time.

* * *

When Hiruma actually woke up, it was in the morning. All of the terrible side effects of his crash came in one dreadful swoop, his head rung with a terrible ache that made him scrunch his face. He felt so much bodily discomfort, in tandem with an odd tinge of fatigue, even though he had just woken up. He found it hard to open his eyes, the idea of seeing the rest of the world seemed too taxing for the blonde at the moment. Hiruma inhaled, feeling his head pound; he _ hated _ this.

He couldn’t move as freely as he should, because his body was currently being held by a pair of strong, warm arms. He woke up with his nose pressed against someone's upper chest, laying on his side with his arms against the person's toned abdomen. He opened his eyes and did not immediately register that he wasn’t alone, he groggily lifted his head over the broad chest in front of him to look at the clock on the other side of the room; it was 8:15 AM. His head flopped back down and he sighed in pain, closing his eyes. 

If his scrambled mind hadn't suddenly reminded him of his last bout in waking up, Hiruma would have involuntarily snuggled into the body right in front of him.

His eyes opened and despite his fatigue, he shot up and glared daggers at the sleeping fullback. Instead of relishing in the fact that his body felt blissfully warmer than it did when he first woke up, he snarled at Akaba’s peaceful snoozing expression and slapped him in the face. The fullback woke up with a start, his brown-green eyes blinking a few times before they half-focused on the glaring face before him.

Hiruma smacked his chest to get his full attention. “Why the fuck are you here?!”

Brown-green eyes held a frown, he sat up slowly. Yesterday night, Akaba exited the business hotel after he left a glass of water for the quarterback to drink. He drove back to the university, and upon reaching his dorm Yamato had asked him where he’d been. The fullback said he’d only went out to eat somewhere, and afterwards he fell asleep early. He woke up to an urgent cadence repeatedly slamming his brain, a loud _ ostinato_, and when he checked the clock it was 6:30 AM. All of the chords of the morning’s urgent rhythm pointed to the quarterback, and even though he thought he could leave the quarterback alone overnight, he got up and got dressed into a dark tight fitting sweater and prune colored jeans. 

He left the university and settled on a plan; knowing that the quarterback would probably fall into bad habits, he thought to do a bit of grocery shopping. He got to the business hotel within an hour after his quick stop to a supermarket, and went to Hiruma’s apartment door. The people there knew that Hiruma knew Akaba, so they let him in without a question. He settled his things down, took his contacts off and used the one magical feat that any college kid would consider a godly _ skill _ amongst all others:

_ Cooking up a decent meal_.

He made the quarterback a bowl of miso soup and a plate of eggs with bacon and sausage. When he had finished, Akaba had both plates sitting in the oven so that it would stay warm, feeling a note suddenly raise when he felt like Hiruma was going to wake up soon. He entered the bedroom and saw the quarterback shivering_ terribly_… and the rest is history.

“I came in and you were shivering.” Akaba briefed, his voice a little too deep from not speaking at all. “So I laid beside you to keep you warm.”

Those blue eyes twitched. Hiruma did not address the kind gesture, because it was a _ kind gesture. _He is not the kind of person to be receiving those. The blonde crossed his arms, eyeing him as if he did something wrong. “Where were you last night?”

Akaba blinked. Did he wake up while he was gone? “Pardon?”

“_Where were you last night? _ ” He repeated, angrily. “I didn’t say you could just nut in me and leave, you fucking _ dick_.” At the word ‘dick’ he shoved Akaba as hard as he could.

It didn’t even move Akaba back more than a few inches because Hiruma was so weak, he retracted his hand as if that action exhausted him.

“I came back after I felt a disturbance in this morning's music.” Akaba leaned forward, his left arm resting on a slightly raised knee. “I left to Saikyoudai a little bit after you fell asleep last night.”

“Why?”

This was actually the first time in which Akaba didn’t know what to say, or rather, what he _ should _ say. He inhaled. “Because…” He decided to be honest. “Nothing in the cadence warranted me to stay for the night. You were asleep, and I knew I had to return, so I chose to go back to dispel any suspicion.”

The quarterback weighed what he said, and decided it was a good enough _ lie _ to pass. Not only that, but he was also too tired to yell now; every time he opened his mouth, his head felt like a load of bricks were crushing his skull, though he didn’t show it. His crossed arms traveled down to his stomach, involuntarily holding back a bad hunger pang. “I’ll let it slide, Fucking Moss Eyes. You’re not welcome here the morning after we fuck, _ got that _?” He didn’t wait for an answer. Hiruma ignored his fatigue and his pain just to get up and angrily saunter to the bathroom, feeling the fullback's cum leave his entrance with every weighted step.

Keep in mind that he was previously angry at Akaba for ‘not staying’. Yup, he’s not… in the _ best _ of mindsets right now.

The fullback got off the bed and watched Hiruma’s angry stomping with mild concern. Even though he was angry as fuck, Hiruma seriously did look like he was going to pass out again just from shoving him. The redhead, fully clothed, wanted to stand by the bathroom door just in case. This newfound concern wasn't foreign to him; Akaba inherently is not a bad person, if he has reached a certain level of interaction with somebody, his warmer, more intricate persona comes out to play around them. 

He partially wondered why he was so concerned about the blonde, sharp toothed and nailed, blue eyed devil who wanted nothing to do with him at the moment. 

Akaba didn't hear anything odd in the bathroom, so he started walking away and towards the bed. He wasn't expecting a loud _ slam _ coming from the bathroom, followed by an unreasonably loud voice screaming: "Why the fuck are you standing by the fucking bathroom door?!" 

The fullback involuntarily crossed two fingers hoping Hiruma wouldn't burst out and chase him with a bazooka or something. The quarterback could barely walk properly. "Your cadence points to undernourishment." Akaba closed his eyes. "I do not want to witness you hurting yourself-" 

The bathroom door _ flew _ open. "DO I LOOK LIKE A FUCKING CHILD TO YOU?!" Hiruma looked at him wildly, hand plastered against the door breathing heavily. He was wearing his bathroom robe to cover himself at least, and his bare eyes were so wide Akaba had to back up, even though he was already several feet away. "Mind your _ fucking business. _" The fortissimo gale in his voice receded alarmingly quick. "Your job is to fuck me when I want you to, not cradle me like a fucking infant."

The blonde breezed past him, removing his bathroom robe and putting on his silk beige one, the one that made him look like a blonde haired woman. Pressed on not showing how weak he really was, he had foregone the idea of wearing a winter coat _ in his apartment _ , because that seriously was a thought that crossed his mind. He looked to breathe deeply, frazzled and unable to concentrate, and the fact that Akaba was still here _ witnessing _ this made him even more angry. 

He had terrible self-control during a sugar high, and would not want _ anybody _ near him when he crashes, because that's when he's the most vulnerable. Being vulnerable in this world gets you killed.

The fullback went to exit the bedroom. He closed the door, and left Hiruma there to halfheartedly decompress, if he could even _ do _ that. Akaba went to the kitchen and looked over the food he had cooked for the quarterback: It was still warm, especially the soup which was still steaming. He placed the soup bowl on the kitchen counter top as well as the plate of bacon and eggs. Being a kind soul, he also had coffee brewing while he slept beside Hiruma, but still chose to fill another glass of water for him because _ the blonde needs it. _

When everything was in place, Akaba took a moment to run his hand through his hair. He felt at his cheek, Hiruma's slap was not as hard as it should be, but he can tell there was a pink imprint on his face. He _ deeply sighed_, distress starting to reach his reserved nerves. 

"The _ fuck _ you fucking sighing for?!" 

Akaba's eyes shot open and his breath was caught in his throat, B Majors started flying all over the place. Hiruma had taken the action personally, and was stomping to the kitchen with a look that spelled _ murder _ in capital letters.

When he came up to him, Hiruma grabbed Akaba's sweater and pushed him onto the fridge behind him as hard as he can. "You angry or something, Fucking _ Moss Eyes! _ Who are you annoyed at, huh?" He pulled his collar to bring Akaba's face close to his. " _ HUH _ ?! The next time you show an attitude like that in _ my fucking house_, I'm gonna take your stupid _ fucking _ guitar, and _ impale you _with i-" 

Hiruma stopped to look at the countertop, suddenly catching the scent of the kitchen. He went quiet, and Akaba blinked a few times in _ wonderment. _ Did… Hiruma not notice the food upon leaving his bedroom? Since when was he _ this _ unaware of his surroundings? 

The blonde quieted down and notably loosened his grip, because his hand started to shake. Even the grip he had on Akaba's sweater was weak. He turned back around to Akaba, his glare seemed to simmer into something between fatigue and irritation. "What is all this, guitar freak?" 

Akaba took a moment to register the sudden change in pitch register. It was so abrupt he had to actually _ pause _ before answering. "You were clearly hungry yesterday, Hiruma. I didn't think you ate a proper meal at all so I made this for you."

Another caesura, after a cadence that was left to openly interpret once Hiruma backed off of him. He appeared to look at Akaba like he lost half a brain. "Why didn't you order room service, you dummy?" 

The fullback paused for two whole seconds. Brown-green eyes then frowned to the ceiling; why _ didn't _he think of that? 

"I live in a hotel, _ genius_. You could get food for _ free _ here." Hiruma crossed his arms and looked away from the food, the gesture implying that Akaba's own cooking was not impressive enough for him. 

The fullback knew better than to think Hiruma's turbulent body language meant the truth. He himself _ knew _ that he was good at cooking; hell, the first string squad even knows that he has the most exceptional cooking skills on the team, second to Banba. "Hiruma, go sit down and eat."

Blue eyes glared at him with a fire that made him flinch. "_Don't _tell me what to do."

"Your rhythm blares _ hunger." _ Akaba shook his head, stepping forward because he had the balls to. "Eat something before you start your day."

Hiruma started to walk away from the countertop, arms still crossed and looking at any of the stools. He went to lean in front of the brewing coffee maker. "I'm not that hungry."

The fullback had a straight face that would have comically denoted how much of a _ whole ass lie _ that was. 

"Don't give me that fucking look, Fucking Moss Eyes." Hiruma got angry again. "If you eye me like that again, I'll rip your dick off with my mouth."

The threat put a _ long pause _ to the fighting tune between them. Akaba blinked twice, opened his mouth, closed it, and then opened it, and then placed a finger over his lips; should he… Should he correct the quarterback because umm… "Hiruma…" 

Blue eyes batted at him_. "' _ Hiruma' _ what_?" 

Well, now he _ had _ to say it. "That wouldn't… Work well in your favor…"

The blonde was up on him again, furious. "Your dick isn't even that big, you fucking sack of _ shit!" _ That also was a lie; Akaba was not _ huge_, but he is above average and girthy.

Hiruma started trying to hit him, but Akaba blocked every tired maneuver. "Hiruma," He closed his eyes and levied a steady breath, "Stop trying to hit me." 

He didn't relent. "Fuck you!" 

"Stop." The fullback held his wrists loosely. "Go eat your breakfast."

"_Fuck _ your breakfast!" He weaseled a hand out and managed to smack Akaba's chest. "I should _ kill you _ for being so fucking snide in my fucking house! Get the fuck _ OUT OF HERE_! WHY ARE YOU STILL FUCKING HERE ANYWAY, LEAV-" 

Akaba had enough. He shut the captain up with a deep kiss, pushing his hands off of him so that he could pick Hiruma up by his thighs. The blonde was _ already _ subdued by the sudden roughness, so much so that he didn't even attempt to fight against Akaba's lips. The fullback pushed one of the stools forward with his foot and stood in front of it, still kissing Hiruma's mouth. When he pulled away, he _ dropped _Hiruma onto the seat and looked down at him. 

“Do _ not _ put your hands on me." His stern voice coated the entire kitchen with notes of discipline. He glared deeply at the quiet quarterback. “I simply want you to eat. You're clearly cranky from your sugar crash, and need sustenance. _ Be quiet _ and sate yourself.”

He shifted away and went to the fridge to get a bottle of water and left the kitchen, plopping down on the living room couch. God _ dammit, _ what was so difficult about eating someone else's cooking? Hiruma didn't have to always be on guard, especially not with him; Akaba never had any means to sabotage the blonde, so why make a big ass fuss over something as simple as _ breakfast? _ The fullback inhaled again to calm himself down, closing his eyes; _ I’ve never been this mentally taxed in my life… _ ** _ever_**_. _

He partially expected a bullet whizzing past his head at some point, but when he got nothing aside from the sound of chopsticks and silverware moving, he relaxed. Akaba propped a leg against his knee, his foot moving to an internal beat he entertained himself with. The tune in his head did not warrant any cues from the blonde telling him to leave, he thought that was strange. The captain was so mad at him, he assumed Hiruma would have ordered him to leave as he was eating. _ Apparently not _ , Akaba figured, and he had a feeling that it had something to do with him suddenly putting Hiruma down. Speaking of which… _ How am I still alive? _

He heard the bowl and plate being put in the sink. Then he heard footsteps leaving the kitchen, heading to the living room. He expected to hear E Majors now. Instead, he got more complex, completely different scales from the quarterback; Major Sevenths and Suspended Fourths, the combination was _ strange _ to hear in someone like Hiruma. Akaba had to turn around when Hiruma was a few feet behind him, the quarterback stopped moving when brown-green orbs found him. 

Akaba blinked twice with a blank expression that didn't highlight his confusion... Why was Hiruma blushing? 

_ Oh… _ He was _ turned on. _

A light, vocal exhale escaped Akaba's lips and he tilted his head. “Is this what sugar does to you?”

Hiruma tilted his head. His eyes were dilated, saying something his mouth couldn't. Akaba scrutinized them quietly. "Hmm?" 

"Sit." Akaba stood up and went around the couch to place a hand on the small of Hiruma's back. The captain didn't move. "Sit down, Hiruma."

That arousal left his face in an instant. "Why the fuck do I have to sit?" 

"Because _ you're tired." _ Akaba didn't want to see him pass out on the floor. Even though he had just eaten a balanced breakfast, it would take a while for it to alleviate the crash. In that time, he wanted Hiruma to _ not _ lose his temper anymore. "Sit down, you look very weak."

And he was _ cold _ too. Hiruma eyed Akaba's sweater and then flickered his gaze to his silk robe, which didn't do much to keep him warm. Even though the food he ate was starting to warm him up a little, he didn't want to _ show _ that he was still inherently cold, so he kept every part of his body as close to him as possible. 

_ Too bad for him _, because Akaba already knew he was cold, and had already embraced him before he could blink out of his thoughts. Hiruma’s hands were plastered on the fullback’s board chest, but they made no move to shove him away. "Let go of me, guitar freak."

"_Shh…" _ Akaba shook his head, situating his arms around Hiruma's waist. Everything in the quarterback’s rhythm currently _ screamed _ for him to melt against the strong fullback. "Why are you only wearing this robe if you're cold?" 

"_I'm not cold." _

"Yes you are."

"How the fuck do you know?" 

"Your legs are shaking." Akaba’s hands dipped lower to hoist the blonde up by his thighs. Still, Hiruma didn't fight against him. He sat down on the couch with the blonde on his lap, running his warm hands up and down Hiruma's hairless thighs. That was another odd thing about Hiruma; he didn't have _ any _ kind of body hair. "Do you need a change of clothes?" 

Hiruma gripped his biceps, nails going into his sweater. "I have legs, guitar freak. I'm not fucking handicapped." There was silence after that for a few seconds. 

"You don't…” Akaba shifted his arms uncomfortably. Hiruma’s nails were practically in his kin at this point. “You don’t need to hold me like this."

"Shut the fuck up." Hiruma buried his face into Akaba's neck. "You have me on your lap, I could do whatever the fuck I want."

Despite how obnoxious that was, the fullback found himself smiling a little because at least… At least Hiruma was starting to sound tadbit normal. Amusement was clear on his face, along with a tiny bit of relief. "_Fuu… _" He didn't stop the nails gripping against him. He counteracted the rough rhythm instead of playing alongside it by pulling Hiruma closer. A few minutes passed and the blonde stopped attempting to leave marks underneath his sweater, his hands loosening their grip. 

"I hope you know that this is… Oddly intimate for something like you. Your rhythm, though it may be all over the place…" The fullback stroked Hiruma's back, amused. "This seems to highlight a verse that you have yet to show me. I wouldn't be surprised if you'd deny any of this once you feel better." He didn't get any response back so he figured the blonde was just brooding against him, and was too tired to curse him out. 

The tune in the living room told him otherwise though. Akaba turned his head to eye the blonde. Hiruma had fallen _ asleep _ on him. 

"_Fuu… _ " Akaba shook his head and picked the quarterback up again, settling the blonde into his room and on his bed. He rummaged through his dresser to find something suitable for him to wear and found nothing but _ black _ staring back at him. He picked out a black sweater and black sweatpants, putting them on the quarterback and then pulling him up to his pillow to tuck him in. That robe wouldn't keep him warm for _ shit_, Akaba knew, and now that he looked at the time, they had football practice in another two hours. 

He partially wondered if the blonde would show up. The fullback kind of hoped he would sit this one out after all the craziness he had witnessed, but knowing Hiruma, he’d expect to see the quarterback on the field at exactly 11 o'clock _ sharp _.

At least, for the next two hours and ten minutes, the blonde could rest his nutty brain all while actually _ wearing _ clothes _ and _being properly fed this time.

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm sure you'd know Hiruma likes to chew sugar free gum, I always figured he was sensitive to sugary things, and ends up acting out whenever he does indulge. How cute lol.  
I can't imagine Akaba being a shit cook either for some odd reason. Idk why.


End file.
